Broken Oath
by fluffy kitty of darkness
Summary: This is a story of the man, Abraxas Malfoy — his doubts, his friendship, and his death during the beginning of Voldemort's era.


The Quidditch League Forum Competition / Season 6 - Round 3

Position: Captain  


Team: Kenmare Kestrels 

Prompt: Pulp Fiction  


This was inspired by the two scenes in the movie — the first being,when one man murdered for double-crossing the gang and second... when Butch returns to retrieve his heirloom from the apartment. Also the story theme of a growing gang — aka the beginnings of the Death Eaters.

I want to thank my wonderful betas for helping me this round -

Dessie _(desertredwolf)_ for helping me plot and plan this fic. Shay _(belle parole)_ for doing a wonderful job. And at last, Ky-chan _(ValkryieAce)_ for encouraging me and beta'ing my foolish mistakes. haha.

* * *

 _The world was going to descend into chaos._

These words were being examined and chewed over in Abraxas Malfoy's mind as he stared across the dining table, not focusing on anything particular. He was too lost in his own mind — the war with Grindelwald just barely ended, leaving the Wizarding World over-joyed and picking up the pieces. From a strategic perspective, it was a perfect time to strike.

"Love…"

He jumped in his seat. Cassie was staring at him with a frown. "Are you alright? You've been staring at the wall for hours."

Abraxas leaned back. "No…" He shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Did you need something?"

With a small huff, she glared at him as if she didn't believe that he was truly fine, but Abraxas was used to the scrutiny and waited until she was done staring him in the eyes, trying to find the cause of his endless moping. Cassie sighed and tucked a piece of her blond hair back, giving up the search. "You got a letter."

"What?"

She dropped an elegant envelope in front of him. "No return address. But the owl was beautiful with soft midnight black feathers and sharp jade green eyes..."

Abraxas was too busy examining the envelope to pay attention to his wife's gushing. "I wasn't aware you had turned into an owl expert since our wedding. If I recall correctly, you hate animals."

She glided from the room with a careless wave at him. "Only the ugly ones. I'll be upstairs if you need me, Abraxas."

"You're going to bed early."

"Pregnant women need their rest."

He grunted in reply. Finally, he decided to open it and flipped the paper over.

The words written inside gave him a sense of sheer relief.

 _We will wait until the time is right. I'll be in touch._

 _R_

* * *

Almost ten years had passed before Riddle called all of them together. It was long enough that all sense of security that Abraxas had built up over the years had crumbled into dust from the simple letters etched in paper.

He went to the meeting. Riddle had barely changed over the years except Abraxas felt that his smile had turned a tad bit more maniacal over the years. The crowd ate up his words and it felt like Riddle had an army.

In passing, Riddle had gripped his shoulder in greeting.

After all, Abraxas was the one to provide the funding to start.

The world had changed quite over the years — these people had changed as well. Especially him. Gone was the anger that had followed him like a shadow and gone was the boyish dreams to make change to the world.

But never gone was the oath he made to follow Riddle.

As the group cheered, he took a sip of his drink but didn't join in. Abraxas casted a long look over the table, stopping at the sight of Orion Black holding out his glass — in favour of clinking their glasses instead of cheering.

Abraxas hesitated — for just a _moment_ — before complying, but it was long enough that he saw a satisfied, knowing glint in the other man's eyes.

He looked away.

* * *

It was two years later that Riddle — no, Voldemort — called them together. Not everyone. Not the whole gang. Only two. Specifically, Rosier and himself.

Rosier was loud and spoke his mind when it was needed. Or, more particularly, when it wasn't needed. He had a crooked grin and no sense of morals that Abraxas knew of.

When Riddle had sat them down and announced that he had a new change of plans, Abraxas had a bad feeling. A little shiver down his spine that something very bad was about to happen.

"There has been some levels of disrespect from the new members. I put both of you in charge them and you have failed me." Riddle's eyes flickered between the two of them. "I've decided on a new change… I'll be leading the recruits… _all_ of them. I don't wish to share the benefits of this mission with you two idiots. From now on, you'll be under my authority."

Abraxas narrowed his eyes. Rosier stood up and protested loudly.

"That wasn't part of the plan!"

"I changed the plan. Months ago."

Rosier hissed. "We made Unbreakable Vows — both of us." He gestured to Abraxas. "If you go back on your end of the deal…" The rest was left unspoken.

There was something that looked like wry amusement on Riddle's face and that made him wary. "I don't recall making any sort of deal in our vow that involves _where_ you stand before me."

Quickly, Abraxas thought back to that night when they were all foolish, mad boys standing in the Slytherin common room and with a sinking heart, he realized that Riddle was speaking the truth. The boy had never offered them anything more than the results of what they wanted. Abraxas gave the funding, Rosier gave the proper connections and history, and Tom had been the brains. While they had been distant in their own ways, Abraxas had been certain, even amongst the doubts, that Riddle was their friend.

"If you think for one moment you can double-cross, you basta —" Rosier was already lifting his wand with a scowl. Riddle lazily pointed his wand.

 _"Crucio."_

Numbly Abraxas tried to block out the screams of the man next to him. Memories of duels given by their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts came flooding back, the thought taking his wand and saving Rosier briefly appeared, but he shoved it to the back of his mind.

The one thing that was stuck in his mind was the reminder of how powerful Riddle was — how he knew Dark magic from the many books Abraxas had lent him over the years, the books that Abraxas had never read himself.

Riddle looked at him. The question ringing in the air with the pained groans of Rosier.

Then he made a choice.

He kneeled.

 _Groveled._

Riddle was amused. He could tell from his voice. "One more thing —"

As Abraxas heard the last thing Riddle said it truly hit him how distant their friendship had been over the years. But still he obeyed. "Yes… _m'Lord."_

* * *

"There is a reason I decided to visit you, Abraxas," Riddle said, smiling as Cassie handed him a cup of tea. "Thank you, dear."

Abraxas kept silent and so did Tom until Cassie left the room to give them some privacy. Riddle leaned forward. "You see… as our cause grows, there are certain objects that I wish to keep protected."

"What objects?" Abraxas asked. Riddle was asking him to keep something safe? It was startling difference from many weeks ago when he had discovered that Tom Riddle Jr. was indeed a sneaky bastard.

"Nothing too difficult to handle. Just one object." Riddle brought out a book from his robes. It was a simple brown leather book and Abraxas took it from him carefully, noting that Riddle's name was engraved on the side.

He frowned. "A journal?"

"It's empty," Riddle said as Abraxas attempted to flip through it. "I want you to keep this in a safe place. No one is to know about this journal. Protect it as if you were protecting your own life." He smirked. "And we both know how well you do that."

He could barely control the glare, but Riddle was already standing up and preparing to leave. "Please thank your wife for me. The tea was delicious."

Abraxas wanted throw the book back at Riddle and declare himself free from all of these foolish ideas. He didn't want to be a part of this anymore. And he certainly didn't want to help protect something that Riddle deemed important. Not after that humiliating display of submission.

Abraxas gripped the journal.

"Oh." Riddle smiled thinly at him. "You have a beautiful family by the way. What was your son's name again?"

His hand loosened its grip.

"...Lucius. His name is Lucius."

"I shall remember that."

Abraxas was left alone with the growing feeling of fear and an object that held more than his life on the line.

* * *

It wasn't often that Abraxas ventured outside to Muggle London. The people, the _Muggles,_ were mostly the turn-off for him. That's why he settled on a corner swing, watching a few children laughing amongst themselves without drawing attention to himself. These Muggles had won a war themselves, not long after Grindelwald's fall from power.

Both worlds had lost so much.

Both worlds were recovering.

 _Barely._

Once Abraxas had wanted revenge against those who killed his father, an innocent caught up in the war against Grindelwald — once he was filled with anger and the urge to stand above everyone.

But today, he was older.

He had a family. A son.

That's when a decision came to him.

* * *

Minutes turned into hours and hours turned into days. Frustrated beyond belief, Abraxas examined the journal for what must've been the millionth time in that one night.

And he could not figure out the value of it.

He ran his hand down one of the pages and mutter to himself. "What makes you so special to Riddle…?"

Protect it with his life, the man had said.

Almost in a daze, Abraxas lifted the journal in his hands and tried to think through what he was about to do. This was important to Riddle. Recently he had learned that one of the most important things that mattered to that man was power.

This was ridiculous. Journals didn't have power.

Objects.

There were more things with the same power as this. Whatever this power was. With a slow hand, he waved it over the front, calling to mind a spell that his father had taught him as a boy. A rare spell.

The tingle down on his arm confirmed his suspicions.

This book was somehow connected to Dark Magic.

Abraxas breathed slowly to calm his nerves.

He tossed it in the fire.

The flames flickered over the leather in a strange pattern, as if it could not be burned. With a frown, Abraxas grabbed the poker stick and dragged it out. Covered in scorched marks and black coal, he knelt down and examined it.

Hardly a scratch.

"Well, well, _well…"_

Abraxas could feel his heart start to pound.

 _Riddle._

He turned around to see Riddle slouched over his chair with a blank expression on his face, but Abraxas could see the faintest hints of anger in his eyes. "How… how did you get in my house? Past the wards?"

"Wards can't stop me. Besides, I make sure to have full-time access to those who I think will betray me."

His words were coming out faster and more flustered. "I wasn't… I would _never_ — "

"By burning a part of my soul? I think that counts as betrayal." Riddle shook his head mockingly.

Abraxas paled. "Your soul?"

"I won't bother explaining the Dark Magic behind Horcruxes since never in your thirty years of life have you seemed to care about the dark arts. Just know that I was able to feel when you tossed it in the fire. I could feel you attempting to burn me."

"That wasn't my — " His voice faltered off into silence while Riddle surveyed him.

He fell to his knees. "Please… I have a family."

"I know — which is why I won't torture you."

Abraxas relaxed.

"I'll just kill you."

He looked up with wide eyes. "Please… my son, he —"

"Yes, hopefully, Lucius will protect my things better than you managed to." Riddle brought out his wand. "I'm sure the death of his father will be excellent encouragement."

A rush of anger and resentment flowed through Abraxas at that moment — foolishly, like a Gryffindor. "You will never win. You mustn't win. People are at peace now. There is no need to cause any more destruction like Grindelwald did."

"For there to be progress, there must be destruction first." Riddle replied and pointed his wand at him. "Anything else?"

Abraxas' mouth went dry. "You betrayed us first, you know. By being our friend."

Riddle's eyes narrowed. "Funny. I don't seem to recall when we were ever friends."

He thought about diving to the ground, bringing out his wand and fighting back. But memories of Rosier came back to him. Memories of dozens of misdeeds done by his comrades under Riddle's command. He thought about all of this and his feet refused to move.

By the time his family came to the forefront of his mind, he was ready to move and fight, but the green light had already taken the own light from his eyes.

Abraxas Malfoy fought no more.


End file.
